Something A Little Different
by Schatzi483
Summary: After being kicked out of Dalton Academy, Blaine Anderson is sent to live with his estranged mother, and a stepfather and sister he has never met. In a world completely different then he's accustomed to, one resident Cheerio catches his eye. There's only one problem. That Cheerio is a boy, and his new girlfriend's best friend.
1. Chapter 1

A/N:New story. I promise my other ones aren't abandoned. I'm a little stuck on both of them, and the idea for this just came to me. I'm nearly done with the second chapter of this story, and hopefully can update every couple of weeks. I can really only write on the weekends though, and I'm terrible at deadlines. It's unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one.

-VAL

Chapter One

At first, Blaine Anderson thought being handcuffed and shoved into a police car at school was the worst thing to ever happen to him. Sitting in a room barely larger than a closet with dim lighting and an extremely uncomfortable metal chair was much worse. He felt like he had been sitting there for hours. There was no clock on the wall though. The only things in the room were two chairs, one of which his leg was handcuffed to, a metal table between the two, and a video camera in the corner across from him.

The teenager was itching to move, to do anything to pass the time. Instead he settled for bouncing his leg nervously. Sometimes he laid head on the cold metal table, sometimes he slouched in the chair. Mostly, Blaine just stared at the window across from him.

Unlike in the movies, it was an actual window, not a one way mirror. Blinds were drawn and the room beyond was dark and still. He could feel the eyes of someone watching him though. Someone was in the room, just watching him from the very moment he was left to rot in the tiny room.

No one could question him until his father arrived. Richard Anderson would take his sweet time arriving too. That is, once someone was able to locate the man. Blaine wasn't even sure he was in the same hemisphere as Ohio.

Apparently, the man was. Not long after Blaine decided he might as well take a nap, a detective walked in followed by Blaine's father and a lawyer.

So he does care, Blaine thought darkly as the detective brought two more chairs in and motioned for everyone to sit.

"Don't answer the questions directly, Blaine," the lawyer said quietly into his ear. "Tell me first then I will tell the detective for you."

Blaine nodded, keeping his eyes trained on the slightly overweight detective.

"First off, Detective, please uncuff my client from the chair. It's not like he could leave the room. Blaine is not some lowlife animal you pulled in off the streets."

With a sigh, the detective stood, walked around the table, bent down and unbound his leg. The teenager felt as though he could hug the lawyer for that. Instead he glared as the detective situated himself across the table once more.

"Alright, Blaine, can you tell me where you were on Sunday?" the detective asked.

Before Blaine could say anything, the lawyer laid a hand lightly on his shoulder. "Can you specify a date and time?" he asked.

"The ninth of September around eleven at night?" The detective looked at Blaine's lawyer darkly, adjust the collar of his cheap, worn shirt.

After a nod from the lawyer, Blaine whispered his alibi to the lawyer. It was true to an extent, but he knew to wait until they were away from the police before telling his lawyer everything. Thought it had been a while, this was not the first time Blaine had been through an interrogation.

"My client was in a last minute rehearsal with several of his fellow Warblers, in his dorm room."

On and on the questioning went. The detective wanted names of the Warblers, what song they were practicing, why they were practicing Blaine answered questions, barely registering what he was saying

Except for a grimace, Blaine hardly reacted when the detective spread pictures across the table after the lawyer asked why Blaine was being questioned. The images weren't half as violent on sheets of glossy paper as they were to watch. He glanced at each one in turn then turned blank eyes back to the detective.

Questions started coming from the detective about the pictures. No, he didn't know who they were. He had never seen the two boys before in his life. The answers weren't lies. Blaine had truthfully never met the boys; he had never seen them before Sunday night.

Then came the one question Blaine had been dreading since the moment he and Jeff Sterling, a fellow Warbler were pulled from their second period AP US History class. The police wanted a sample of his DNA.

_Over my dead bod_y, he thought darkly.

"Absolutely not," his father said.

"Detective…?" the lawyer started.

"Lewis, Detective Lewis."

"Detective Lewis, you can have a sample of my clients DNA when you show some sufficient evidence to charge him with something. All you have is a hysterical mother that overheard my clients name mentioned by a boy so traumatized he doesn't even know where he is. And only then with a court order."

"A DNA sample would clear his name entirely, and we could move on," Detective Lewis said.

On some halfwit street rat, the suggestion might have worked. Blaine was not just a common boy. He was the son of Richard Anderson and the heir to a media empire. His lawyer wasn't some court appointed attorney, but one of the best money could buy. Neither of them was going to fall for it.

"Charge him, or we are leaving."

"We can hold him for up to seventy-two hours," Detective Lewis said after several long seconds.

"Try it, and I will have your badge," Blaine's father growled out.

Blaine had to agree. He definitely would not be staying here any longer than absolutely necessary.

The detective's eyes scanned over them silently. A lawyer that graduated in the top of his class from an Ivy League school, Richard Anderson dressed in a three thousand dollar Armani suit, and a boy wearing the uniform to a school with tuition higher than the man's salary, were no match for him in wits. Defeat was as plain on his face as envy. He let them go.

Richard Anderson did not say one word to his son as they left the police station. He didn't say anything in the forty-five minute car ride to their house either. He waited until they were safely behind the closed doors of their home.

The maid that opened the door for them was promptly dismissed for the remainder of the day. Once she was out of sight and earshot, Blaine was roughly shoved through the archway that led to his father's study.

His father grabbed the lapels of his blazer and slammed him into the heavy wood panelling on the wall next to the entrance. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he yelled. "Do you even realize what you were being questioned for?" Beneath the fury that swam in his father's eyes, Blaine noted disappointment lurking there too.

"Can you get off of me?" Blaine said.

With a sigh, he let his son go. He moved across the room and sat in the large leather chair behind his desk. Blaine threw himself carelessly into a chair across from him.

"Care to answer my question now?"

"Not really."

"Well you don't have a choice," his father said. Then he sighed, "Look, Blaine, Andrew and I can't help you if you don't talk to us. Do you even know what you're being accused of?"

"I know perfectly well, father. I am not an idiot. Can I go now?"

"No, you may not. We are talking about this. You were walked out of school by the police, in handcuffs. Do you understand how bad it looks?"

"It looks worse than it is," Blaine said.

"They want to charge you with assault, possibly more. And believe me, if they can get enough evidence against you, they will."

"It wasn't assault. No one will ever get enough evidence to do anything to me."

"So you and Jeffery did put those poor boys in the hospital. You better hope they both recover fully. I will not have our name dragged through the dirt."

"It won't be. None of their injuries is life threatening. They'll have scars though."

"I want to hear the whole story, Blaine. You need to tell me why those two boys are in the hospital, and how you were involved."

"I'm tired. Can I just go to sleep and tell you later."

"No. Talk when you're ready, but you need to go upstairs and start packing."

Blaine couldn't read the look on his father's face. "Packing?" he asked carefully. The teenagers mind was spinning. There is no way he would be shipped off for this.

"Yes packing. The headmaster called me long before the police did. You're out of Dalton for the rest of the year. Wes is going to bring your stuff by later."

"Why am I packing though?" he asked carefully.

"Because I'm not here enough to watch you during the week, and someone needs to watch you. Did you really think another school in this town would allow you to step foot on campus?"

"Stop being cryptic. You're terrible at it. Why am I packing my things?"

"I'm sending you to live with your mother."

Blaine stared at his father incredulously. "There's no way in hell I'm going to live with that bitch. You can fucking forget it," he yelled.

"Language," his father said without flinching. "You're going to live with her. You don't get a say so in this."

"I'm not going. She walked out on us, and hasn't said a word to me since. You can't make me live with her."

"Yes I can."

"I'll run away."

"Try it and I'll make sure you get locked up. Now go pack."

Muttering curses to his father and the bitch that gave birth to him, Blaine stormed out of the room. Blaine's mother walked out on them nearly nine years ago, when he was eight. She didn't even say goodbye before leaving. One day, he came home from school to a house empty of everyone but staff. Melissa Anderson was nowhere to be found. Nearly a month passed before Blaine's father explained she wasn't coming back. It would have hurt less had she died.

Now he was being sent to live with a woman that did not even care enough to say goodbye. His father had definitely lost his mind.

He needed some form of relief. Unfortunately, the gym was located in his father's suite. Instead, he settled for smoking a cigarette. Thankfully, his room had a balcony.

Several cigarettes later, he watched his best friend's shiny red car coming down the driveway. Blaine waived at Wes as the car pulled up to the door. He flicked the remained of the cigarette towards the fountain before going back downstairs to greet the other boy.

"How much trouble are you in?" Wes asked him once they were both safely behind Blaine's door.

"I honestly don't even know yet. I'll find out if they get enough evidence to charge me with something."

"There's a lot you can be charged with. Fuck Blaine, if anyone got wind of half the shit you've done, they'd lock you up for a really fucking long time."

"I know that Wes. I don't intend of anyone knowing anything," Blaine said scowling at his best friend.

"Well, you're out of Dalton, you know that right?"

"My asshole of a father informed me of that less than an hour ago."

"I've got your shit in my car. The dean was quite adamant about having every last trace of you removed from campus."

"I'm sure he's relieved. Bastard has been trying to get rid of me for years."

Both boys laughed at that. Since day one, Blaine had been giving the faculty of Dalton Academy hell. He'd never done anything to get himself into serious trouble though. Figures the dean would use being escorted from campus in handcuffs the perfect excuse.

All too soon it was time for Wes to head back to campus. Curfew was at eight during weekdays, and apparently the majority of the Warblers were being investigated. The staff wasn't stupid. If Blaine and Jeff Sterling were arrested, then the rest of their group was involved somehow. As long as everyone kept their mouths shut, the Warbler's record would remain relatively unharmed. Of course, having the lead vocalist expelled was quite a large blemish on the record.

He didn't make it to bed until well after midnight. Richard Anderson had never been one for idle threats. Blaine learned that fact at a very young age. If the man said he was going to live with his mother, then Blaine could be sure he would be sent to her regardless of how he tried to stop it. He wasn't about to be left without his possessions, even temporarily. Packing was the best option.

* * *

Cheerio practice was brutal, and Kurt Hummel was exhausted. Every muscle in his body ached. His usually perfectly coiffed hair lay flat against his head drenched in sweat. It was only six weeks into the school year and the squad's coach was pushing them harder than ever. This year they would be the very definition of perfect.

The three hour daily practices were their punishment for coming in second at Nationals. Coach Sue Sylvester was a winner, and believed if you weren't number one, then you were a loser. Coming in second was a black mark on her record that had to be destroyed.

Practice Monday ended in laps. Two of the three pyramids fell midway through the routine. By the time he finished running, Kurt was ready to collapse. He drank nearly the entire bottle of water.

"What do you say we ditch practice tomorrow, Porcelain," Santana Lopez said as she came up behind him. "I needz to go shoppin' for Puck's party tomorrow night."

Shaking his head, he turned to face the other co-captain. "If we ditch, Coach Sylvester will kill us. We're the leaders of this group, we have to set an example." After thinking about it for a moment, he continued, "Why is he having a party on a Tuesday anyway?"

"Who cares? It's an excuse for us to party, and Britts and I need to party some. Do you realize there hasn't been a single good party this school year."

Britts was a blonde Cheerio named Brittany Pierce, who was both Santana's best friend and lover. The girl in question walked towards the two. Walking with her was another blonde, they were both laughing.

"I hate running," the other blonde, Quinn Fabray, said with a grimace.

"Blame the freshman, Q. They're the ones that can't get the stunts right."

"More like Kitty can't get them right," Quinn pointed out.

"That's an understatement," Kurt said.

The four of them shared a laugh as they watched the rest of the squad finish up.

Kurt turned his eyes towards the football team, which was packing up the equipment for the day, then began his post run stretches. Most of the boys were his type, but he couldn't deny that a few of them had nice bodies. Puck, the guy having the party, was one of the attractive ones. It was too bad that his personality left much to be desired.

Standing next to him were Finn Hudson, Puck's best friend and Kurt's freakishly tall step-brother, and Sam Evans. Sam transfered to McKinley at the beginning of the year and quickly made friends with the two. Kurt had a huge crush on the blond boy.

"Staring at Trouty Mouth again?" Santana asked. She had probably been checking Puck out and caught Kurt.

A blush rose on his cheeks.

"Why don't you ask him out?" she continued. "Those lips were made to suck dick."

"He's not gay, Satan," Kurt sighed. At first, he had hoped Sam was, but after several parties and all-night Black Ops tournaments with Finn and Puck, Kurt finally had to give that fantasy up. Plus, he was sure the football player had a crush on Quinn.

"Besides didn't he join Glee club?" And that more than anything made Kurt keep his distance. Nothing would ever make him go back to the life he had before joining the Cheerios. The same could be said for the three girls too.

"That was a sad day," Quinn said. "Why would anyone join a club that makes them a social leper?"

"I want a leopard," Brittany said once again misinterpreting what was being said.

"I'll get you one someday," Santana said causing the blonde girl to smile.

The remainder of the squad finally finished, and with a shake of their heads, Kurt and the Unholy Trinity headed back to the locker rooms to change.

Not being a fan of locker rooms, Kurt waived bye to his friends and made Santana promise to text him the details of the party. He quickly grabbed his things from his locker before heading to his Navigator.

Leaning on his baby was Finn, and attached to his face was the leader of the freak squad that called themselves the Glee club, Rachel Berry.

At one point, during their freshman year, Kurt and Rachel had been friends. Balancing the glee club rehearsal schedule with Cheerios practice, and eventually when he had to choose, Kurt went with the Cheerios. Surprisingly, it wasn't a hard decision. Not only were his best friends on the Cheerios, but competing with Rachel constantly for the spotlight got old quickly.

Those few months he tolerated her because he had to. It's been two years and some months since then. Kurt didn't have to look at her face if he didn't want to.

"She can find her own way home, Finn," Kurt said. He clicked the unlock button on his keys as he spoke causing the couple to jump apart.

"Dude, she's coming over," Finn said. He sounded like a five year old whining because he couldn't have a toy.

"Then you can help her find another ride. She isn't riding in my car." Kurt paused for a moment and added, "And stop calling me 'dude'. I've told you that a million times."

Rachel was glaring at him like a petulant child. He nearly laughed at her.

"Don't be a bitch, Kurt. It barely takes ten minutes to get to your house. It won't kill you," she said.

Not wanting to argue, he agreed. "If you so much as utter a word, I will tape your mouth shut," he warned her before climbing into the car.

The ride was tense, but quick. Once he was sure the two were out of his baby, he didn't waste a second before hurrying upstairs to his room. The sweat from practice had begun to dry on his skin. He grabbed a pair of yoga pants (Quinn turned him onto them last year, and he couldn't get enough of how amazingly comfortable they were), an old t-shirt, and his bag of toiletries he didn't dare leave lying around.

Finn had a thing about using anything left in the bathroom, regardless of purpose or who it belonged to. It took less than a month for Kurt to realize his stepbrother would misuse his expensive products, even if Kurt put his name on them. He moved everything he cared about to his room after Finn used face cream that cost more than fifty dollars on his feet. He had yet to see the money to replace it.

The bathroom they shared was at the opposite end of the hallway, past Finn's room. He heard Rachel's obnoxious giggling through the slightly cracked door as he passed by.

While he waited on the water to heat up, Kurt ensured the door was locked, then examined himself in the mirror. His eyes had dark bags under them from spending half the night studying subjects he barely understood and Cheerio practices that never seemed to end (Monday through Saturday, with Saturday being six hours). His skin was slightly darker than usual too. The sunscreen he used was not doing it's job of protecting his skin from the harmful UV rays.

Appalled by his appearance, Kurt decided to let Santana know he was definitely game for the party before he started cooking dinner. His skin needed a break from Coach Sylvester's torturous practices.

E/N: Reviews please, I really want to know what you guys think of this one. :) and follow me on Tumblr for random updates on my stories. My url is youretheklainethatiwant :)


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Two weeks, just as promised. I hope this suffices for a Christmas present for everyone. I don't really have much to say this time. Except that my novel is coming along quite nicely, and I will hopefully be ready to send to publishers by February. Woooo! Go me! Anyway, here's the next chapter.

-VAL

Chapter Two

Morning came all too soon. He groaned loudly and pulled his blankets over his head when the maid entered the room the next morning.

"Blaine," she said pulling the heavy curtains open, "your father is expecting you in his office fully dressed in thirty minutes."

"Fuck him," Blaine said. He burrowed farther into the covers and immediately passed back out.

Next thing he knew, he was jarred awake by the warm blankets being ripped off of him. A firm hand took hold of his arm and yanked him forcefully out of the bed. Blaine didn't have to guess to know who it was.

"Fucking let go of me," he growled.

"Language," his father chided as he let go. "You were told to be up and in my office over an hour ago. I don't have time to deal with your bullshit today, Blaine. Go."

With a harsh shove, the teen was marched out of his room and down the stairs. The doorbell sounded only moments after they entered his father's office.

"Try to make yourself look like you have not just rolled out of bed," his father sighed before walking back out.

Like that'll happen, Blaine thought. His curly hair could only be tamed with gel. Plus, his father hadn't even let him put a shirt on. The only thing the teen wore was a loose pair of sweat pants.

Sighing, he flopped down in his favorite chair to wait. Since he was only ever in his father's office when he was in trouble, the irony in having a favorite chair was not lost on him.

It took less than a minute for the man to return; the front door was just outside his office. Following him was a woman Blaine would have recognized anywhere.

She was older, but still just as beautiful as the last time he saw her. Her dark, curly hair, which was shorter than he remembered, fell messily around her face. Her skin, like his, was naturally tanned. The only real difference he could see was her clothing. Instead of perfect make up and the latest fashion like in pictures from his childhood, his mother's face was makeup free and she simply wore jeans and a tee-shirt that read "New Directions" on it. She was smiling tentatively.

"Blaine," she said softly when she laid her hazel eyes on him. Amazement shone through her eyes as she silently took his appearance in.

Pissed, he glared at her harshly. "Don't fucking talk to me," he growled.

"If I have to tell you one more time to-," his father started to say.

"I don't fucking care!" Blaine shouted over him. Turning on his mother, he continued, "You're a fucking bitch. There's no way in hell I'm living with you."

"You don't have a choice, Blaine," his father sighed. "We've been over this. You're out of Dalton for the year, and I'm never here, and I don't trust you enough to bother with sending you to any other schools in town."

"Make Dalton let me back in," Blaine pleaded with his father.

"I'm doing what I can, Blaine. It's going to take time, and you can't sit around the house all day while you wait. Besides, I think public school will do you some good," his father said.

Blaine blanched at the idea of going to public school. "Public school? Her and public school! You're fucking joking right?"

"No, Blaine, he's not. You'll be going to school with Rachel," his mother said.

The name threw him. Who the fuck is Rachel, he thought. "Like hell."

"*Damn it, boy!" his father said. "You're going that's final. I don't have time for your shit today. I've got a plane to catch, and you don't have a choice. Stop arguing and get your ass moving."

"Fine, but I'm back the moment Dalton allows me back in." Then he turned back to his mother and said, "Don't expect me to follow any fucked up rules you come up with. You lost the right to have any say so the moment you walked out of my life."

He left the room to get dressed.

"He's changed," he heard her say quietly.

Blaine didn't wait around to hear his father's reply.

He took his time with showering. Then he forced the maid too cook him a full breakfast. He made sure to eat as slowly as possible.

His parents were still in his father's office when he finished procrastinating. His father was glaring at him. Blaine could tell the man was getting frustrated with him.

Good, he deserves to be inconvenienced, Blaine thought.

"Keys," his father said. He held an open palm out toward Blaine.

"W-what?" Blaine stuttered out.

"Give me your keys."

The question came out of his mouth before he could stop it. "How will I drive without them?"

A bark of laughter left his fathers lips. "You really think you'll have access to you car? Tell me Blaine, what have you done to deserve that privilege?"

"I really fucking hate you sometimes," Blaine said.

"Stop with the melodrama, and just give them to me."

He took the keys out of his pocket and threw them across the desk. They landed in about the middle, but continued to slide off the edge. A deep scratch was left behind on the polished oak. Blaine smirked at the mark; his father shot a venomous glare at him.

"He's all yours, Melissa. Good luck," his father said.

"I guess I'll see you soon, Richard," she said before walking to her car.

Blaine followed her out the door without saying goodbye.

At first, Blaine's mother attempted conversation. Blaine would either grunt in response or ignore her all together. She gave up before they made it out of Westerville.

The radio, which was set to a light rock station, played softly in the background. He attempted to drown out the tension in the car by watching the trees pass as they drove. There wasn't a lot to look at between the two places, and the closer they got to Lima, the more rural it became.

Finally, she parked the car in the driveway of a small two story house. The house was at least fifty years old, and when he looked around, Blaine realized all the houses were older.

"Let's get inside and have some lunch," Melissa said. "Then we'll get you settled in."

"Whatever," he said.

She made a couple of sandwiches for them, before sitting at the bar. After being beckoned over, Blaine sat on one of the stools next to her.

"I know this is going to be hard for you," she said as they ate.

Well, she ate. Blaine picked at his sandwich. He was still full from the massive breakfast he had barely two hours before.

"You'll have rules, and we don't have a maid. You'll be expected to do chores."

Blaine grunted at her before pushing the plate away.

Melissa sighed. "Come on, I'll show you where your room is. Then you can start unpacking. We'll talk later."

He followed her up the stairs. His room (hopefully for only a few weeks) was just off the landing. Why he expected anything larger than his closet was beyond him, but seeing the size of the room was shocking.

"You can redecorate however you want," Melissa said before leaving him alone.

That was good news, because the beige walls and frilly blanket had to go, preferably sooner than later.

It didn't take long to unpack. Most of his things were left behind since he didn't know his car was going to be taken. Wes would definitely be making a trip to Lima so Blaine could pack up the rest of his things. Or at least what could fit into the car.

Before he had finished putting his things away, he heard loud footsteps on the stairs and voices from the hallway.

"I can't believe he did that!" A girl shrieked. "The nerve of him, stranding us there like that. Your brother is the most selfish human being I've ever met."

"What am I supposed to do about it?" A boy answered her.

Curious about what was happening, Blaine opened the door.

A short girl, with long brown hair and possibly the worst clothing he had ever seen on anyone and an ungodly tall boy were being ushered into the seats on the landing by Melissa.

"What happened?" she asked the two unknown teens softly.

"Cheerio Kurt happened, that's what. He left Finn and I without a ride, and he knew I had voice lessons today! I swear he does it on purpose," the girl screeched.

Her voice was quickly becoming irritating, and Blaine really hoped she wasn't the Rachel Melissa has mentioned earlier.

"Puck's having a party so some of the Cheerios skipped practice today," the boy, Finn said.

"You mean the Unholy Trinity and their ringleader skipped practice. No one else would risk Sue's wrath."

"I really wish you wouldn't call them that, Rachel," Melissa said.

So she was "Rachel", damn his sentence in this hick town was going to be a cruel form of torture.

"When they show an ounce of decent humanity I might," Rachel said. "He still should have said something to you at least! You do live with him," she ranted.

"Kurt and I barely talk."

On they went for another ten minutes at least complaining about the Cheerios, whoever they were. Why a group of people wanted to be named after breakfast food completely alluded him, but to each his own.

After a while, Melissa seemed to realize he was there. By that time he was leaning against the door frame watching them with mild amusement.

"Rachel, Finn, this is Blaine," she said. "Blaine, this is my step-daughter Rachel and her boyfriend Finn."

Rachel turned and smiled brightly at him. Blaine really wished she hadn't.

"Oh, it's so wonderful to meet you Blaine. You're absolutely going to love being here. And I'm sure you'll love McKinley too. I'm honestly very excited. I'm captain of the New Direction, thats our glee club. I know you sang lead at your old school, and having you here…"

He stopped listening. Rachel had to be the single most annoying person he had ever met. There was a good chance those assault charges would become murder charges if he had to spend too long around this girl.

"…So you'll come to glee club Thursday, right?" she asked.

"I'll think about it." He had no intention what-so-ever about joining.

"Perfect."

After that, Finn was sent home because apparently Melissa wanted to finish their conversation from earlier. Now it involved Rachel and her husband Roy.

"So, Blaine, as Melissa said, things here are going to be different that you're used to. First thing, no smoking, no drugs, and you will not use swear words under this roof."

He definitely would not be following a single one of those rules.

"Curfew is at ten on school nights and midnight on weekends. You break it, it does get shortened. If you start failing classes or skipping school, you won't be allowed out. You with me so far?"

Prison for poor people, that's what this is, Blaine thought. Blaine barely followed the rules his father set, if this man thought he would be following his insane rules, he had something else coming. He nodded his head to appease the man though.

"Good. Your chores will include keeping your room and the hall bathroom clean. You'll do your own laundry, and help Rachel keep the loft picked up. We rotate kitchen duties, Rachel has tonight, then you'll be after her. You and I will trade off on taking the garbage out, and you'll help me with yard work."

Mr. Berry finally finished talking, much to Blaine's relief. Luckily, he didn't have to do anything other than nod in acknowledgment.

The 'family' dinner that followed had to be one of the most awkward meals of his life. Melissa kept asking questions about his life. If she really wanted to know she would have stuck around, Blaine thought. Rachel and her father spent the whole time discussing her glee club and the boy (Chris?) that stranded her.

He fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow after that. He barely survived half a day with these people. God only knew how he was expected to live here, let alone attend their backwoods school for an extended amount of time.

* * *

Quinn, Santana, and Brittany were waiting for Kurt next to his Navigator after his third period class. They had decided to cut during lunch. The four of them needed time to shop and dress for the party, which started around eight.

Apparently, they had the same idea to ditch the required Cheerios uniform for street clothes.

"It's about time you got your ass here, Porcelain," Santana said when she noticed him.

"Coach Roz held my class up. We had some stupid lab," Kurt apologized. He pressed the unlock button on his key.

The four of them climbed into the car as Quinn said, "I hated that lab. It was not on my list of things to do at nine in the morning."

Kurt grimaced. The chemicals they had to light on fire smelled atrocious. Combined with the group that kept lighting other objects (such as erasers) on fire, he was convinces that was the worst lab this year.

Putting all thoughts of school away, Kurt started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

After a quick stop at The Lima Bean, the group started their short trip to Columbus. Thee group sang along to the radio and discussed possible outfits. With Kurt driving at a spell that would give his father another heart attack, they made it to the Columbus mall in just under an hour and a half.

Unlike the sad excuse for a mall in Lima, the stores, while not exactly designer, were much higher quality. Express was better than Old Navy any day. Finding the perfect outfits went better than Kurt expected. He ended up with black skinny jeans from Guess that accentuated his ass perfectly, a grey top and black vest from Express, and new black Doc Martins.

Quinn ended up with a skin tight little black dress and heals with silver glitter. Santana of course got a red number and gold shoes, and Brittany got a bright blue dress and black shoes.

By the time they had finished hunting down accessories, including jackets and purses to match the girls dresses, Kurt was starving. He stopped at an Olive Garden just before leaving Columbus.

"At least their food is edible," Santana joked as they walked inside.

She was right. It was nice to actually eat at an Italian place where the food wouldn't kill you, he thought.

"You left me!" Finn yelled the moment the group arrived back at Kurt's house.

The gangly teen had been waiting on the front stoop when Kurt pulled into the driveway.

"I told you this morning, I was going to the mall directly after practice," Kurt shoved passed his stepbrother. "I'm home, Dad!" he said as he went past his father's office.

Finn trailed behind him as he led the girls up the stairs and to his room.

"You didn't even go to practice today," Finn said.

"So I skipped practice, that doesn't change that I told you I couldn't drive you home," Kurt explained with an exasperated sigh.

His stepbrother was so dimwitted.

"Rachel was late to her voice lessons. We waited for you for an HOUR!"

"Stop yelling, Lumps McGee. No one cares about you and your Hobbit girlfriend. Porcelain and I had things to do," Santana said. "Now fuck off, you're giving me a headache." She then slammed Kurt's bedroom door in his face.

Kurt, Quinn, and Brittany laughed.

"Well, now lets get a move on," Kurt said.

An hour later they headed back out the door,

"Where are you going, Kurt?" his father, Burt, said as they descended the stairs.

"Puck's house for a bit."

"It's a school night."

"Homework is done, and I won't stay out too late, promise."

The man nodded, and allowed him to leave.

"No drinking!" Burt yelled behind him.

"I won't!" Kurt fired back just before closing the door.

He lied. Not even two minutes after walking through Puck's front door, Kurt had a drink in his hand.

The loud music thrummed through him as he sat on the counter flirting with a kid named Chandler. The boy went to school with Puck's cousin. He was cute in an innocent, naive way.

"Come dance with me," Kurt said sliding off the counter.

"I-I don't really…" Chandler stammered.

Ignoring the boys obvious nervousness, Kurt grabbed his hand and pulled him to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the living room.

"What if someone doesn't like us dancing?" Chandler asked Kurt.

The Cheerio had to laugh at that. "Puck's one of my best friends, if anyone has something to say to us, they'll have to answer to him."

The boy still looked a little nervous.

Kurt held his drink out to him, and said, "Drink. It'll calm you down."

Chandler downed half the cup. He grimaced and coughed once he was done.

"Ready now?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Kurt smiled and turned around. He pressed his back against Chandler before they started dancing. Once they boy got over being shy, he was a good dance partner.

Three songs later, they were still dancing. The only time they had stopped was for Kurt to refill his drink. The more alcohol Kurt consumed, the dirtier he danced.

Not to mention he kept giving Chandler some of his drink, and the younger boy was apparently a light weight. He only had a fraction of what Kurt had, and was wasted. Wasted enough to turn Kurt around and press his lips to the Cheerios.

Just as they started to get into it, a voice interrupted them. "He doesn't seem your type, Hummel."

Kurt broke the kiss and saw Sebastian Smythe leaning against the wall next to them.

Sebastian was an asshole he had met at a few parties around town over the summer. He went to a fancy boarding school near Columbus, but lived with his grandparents in Lima. Most of the summer was spent with Sebastian trying to talk his way into Kurt's pants.

"And what is my usual type, Smythe?"

"Definitely not him," Sebastian gestured towards Chandler. "He probably doesn't even know where to stick it."

"Crass as always. I suppose you think you're my type."

"Well, how about we get out of here, and we'll find out."

"Not happening. Get some class, Smythe, and maybe I'll think about giving you a chance."

"Come on," he said and reached out for Kurt.

Kurt moved back quickly, "Just go away. You're presence is starting to get bothersome."

"You're just playing hard to get, we both know you're going to give in. It's only a matter of time."

"Do you realize how pathetic and desperate you sound? You might as well spend some of that money you've got on a prostitute."

"You're a bitch, Hummel. But don't worry, when you come around, I'll forgive you." Sebastian walked back out of the room.

Seething, Kurt turned back to Chandler only to find his companion had vanished. With a sigh, he decided it was time to leave.

He had started to sober up thanks to the unpleasant encounter, and he doubted Chandler would be up for picking up where they left off. Instead, he found Quinn, who was all over Sam on the couch and informed her he was headed out.

It was fun while it lasted, but he could always count on some asshole to ruin his night.

E/N: The best Christmas presents come as reviews. And follow me on Tumblr for updates. URL is the same.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Wow this took an eternity! I promise to get the next chapter out a little faster. We actually get some Klaine interaction in this chapter! Any mistakes are my own.

-VAL

Chapter Three

Waking up to Rachel's screech through his door was even worse than a hangover, Blaine decided. Blindly, he felt around the nightstand for his phone. A groan escaped his lips when he saw it was only six thirty.

He rolled over and pulled his blanket over his head. It was entirely too early to get up.

"Blaine! Mom says to get up! Now!" Rachel screeched again, not even five minutes later.

"I'm up!" Blaine growled, his voice scratchy with sleep.

He roughly shoved the blankets off and shivered as the cool air hit his skin. Ignoring the urge to burrow back into the warmth of his bed, Blaine stumbled out his door and down the stairs. Melissa and her husband were seated at the bar when he made his way into the kitchen.

"Oh, good, you're up," Melissa said when she saw him. "You can have whatever you find for breakfast. Rachel usually cereal or a bagel."

He only caught half of her words; everything was too fuzzy from sleep.

"Coffee?" he mumbled.

"We don't drink coffee," Rachel said brightly as she came into the room.

Blaine groaned and let his head drop to the counter. The noise echoed across the room, but he was too tired to notice the sharp pain. Coffee was necessarily for him to function, especially if it was before noon.

"Why don't you go get dressed," Melissa said, "and we can stop and get some coffee before school." She laid a soft hand on his back. Blaine hadn't even realized she moved.

He lifted his head to glare at her, then slowly made his way back up the stairs. The warm water from the shower helped clear the fog from his mind.

Fifteen minutes later, he towel dries his messy curls and pulled on a simple black t-shirt and a pair of jeans. If there was one aspect about this whole public school thing he was going to like, it would be the not having to wear uniforms, Blaine decided. That and his father wouldn't be around to bitch about his unruly hair. He shoved his feet into his shoes before heading back down the stairs.

Normally, he wasn't a breakfast person. He was also used to waking up five minutes before classes started (which at Dalton was nine AM).

Melissa herded Rachel and him out the door barely a quarter after seven. They stopped at a quaint little coffee shop halfway between the school and the neighborhood. The coffee was barely drinkable; not surprising since it came from a backwoods coffee shop.

Rachel barely waited for the car to stop before saying a quick goodbye and taking off into the school.

"Let's get this done, I still have to get ready for work," Melissa said.

Blaine followed her across the parking lot and into the school. It was smaller, and much more modern than Dalton, even without counting the dorms. The interior of the school was concrete and glass and shinny metals. The entire front office, which was just to the left of the entrance, had a glass wall as did the principals office beyond.

The secretary directed them around the corner to the guidance councilors office. The office had the same glass windows.

"I'm Ms. Pillsbury," the redheaded woman said welcoming Blaine and Melissa into her office. "We're excited for you to join us here…Blaine."

Her voice was overly cheerful and made him want to punch her. As she spoke to Melissa, he slouched in the chair, arms crossed over his chest, and looked around the room.

It was immaculately clean, cleaner than even hospitals. There weren't even dust specs floating in the air. Pamphlets lined a white counter top on the left side of the room in two neat rows. Behind Ms. Pillsbury was a large book shelf. All of the books were arranged alphabetically. Her desk had little knick-knacks arranged neatly on it.

The only mess in the room currently sat on her desk in the form of his records from Dalton. This included the massive amount of discipline records.

"Seems you were quite the troublemaker," the guidance councilor said.

Blaine grunted at her.

"If he causes any trouble here, feel free to contact me," Melissa said.

"Well hopefully we wont have any problems, right Blaine?" Miss Pillsbury asked him.

"Whatever," he said.

"We won't have any. You're in enough trouble as it is. You really don't want to add to it," Melissa said with an air of finality in her voice.

He grunted again in response.

The councilor didn't seem to notice the tension between the other two people in her office. "That's good to hear." She grabbed a few sheets of paper off the printer next to her and handed them across the table to him. "This is your schedule, a map of the school, and locker information. And this," she passed another, smaller sheet of paper to him, "is a late pass for your first period. If you get lost, I'm sure one of the other students will help you, and you can always come see me if you need anything."

With that, she dismissed both him and Melissa.

"Behave yourself, Blaine." Melissa said.

He watched her turn the corner and walk out of the school, and then went in search of the nearest exit. The cool fall air hit him the moment the doors closed. Fishing his cigarettes out of his bag, he lit one before making his way towards the student parking lot. He planned to hide behind some cars and figure out his schedule before second period began.

"If you don't want to get caught, you should head to the football field," a voice said behind him.

Blaine turned to see a boy with a short mohawk wearing a letterman jacket walking towards him.

"Excuse me?"

"People smoke under the bleachers. Coach Sylvester likes to check the parking lots for 'miscreants'," the boy said.

Blaine simply stared at him, slightly confused.

"You're new," the boy said after a moment of Blaine staring at him blankly.

"What gave it away?"

"Name's Puck," the boy said. "You let me bum one from ya, and I'll lead the way."

Blaine fished out another cigarette and handed it to Puck.

"So what's you're name, new kid?" the boy asked.

"Blaine," he said.

Puck led him around the school and out to the football field. A few people were already hanging out underneath them, sitting on either and old picnic table and a bench. One of the girls made room for him to sit on the table. The table was covered in graffiti and cigarette burns.

"So, Blaine," Puck said, "what brings you to this hell hole?"

"I was kicked out of my last school."

"For what?"

"Long story," Blaine said. He then pulled out the schedule Ms. Pillsbury gave him.

"Damn," Puck said over his shoulder. "You're taking all AP classes? That's some tough shit."

"It's not really that hard," Blaine shrugged.

The other boy (and several of the girls) stared at him slack-jawed.

"You must be pretty fuckin' smart," a red haired girl said.

Blaine shrugged. Having straight As was the only thing he got right, according to his father. Plus, at Dalton where the students were children of powerful names, failing wasn't an option. Blaine had the highest GPA at Dalton.

"Smart or not, Mrs. Castle is brutal towards people that skip her class," Puck said.

"Mind showing me where it is then? I'm supposed to be on my 'best behavior' today," Blaine said.

Puck agreed, then led him back to the school.

As they walked, the boy with the mohawk explained each of the teachers to him, and a brief description of where the classes were.

Mrs. Castle was his AP Physics teacher. Her class was in a separate, smaller building just to the right of the main building. Puck called it the Science Building. She glared at him suspiciously when he stepped through the door moments after the late bell rang.

"Can I help you with something?" the woman he assumed to be the teacher said.

"New student," Blaine said.

"Right. Heard I was getting you. Take a seat," she said.

The seating was at lab tables and the only free seat was next a tall Asian boy dressed in a blue and green plaid button-up.

"Mike Chang," the boy said holding his hand out to Blaine as he took his seat.

"Blaine," he responded. Telling people his name was getting old, he decided.

Mrs. Castle placed a text book on the table in front of him as she started her lesson for the day. He thanked every god he didn't believe in that the woman hadn't made him introduce himself to the class.

Class went surprisingly fast. Unsurprisingly, McKinley was two chapters behind Dalton, so he spent most of the period doodling.

Mike took a look at his schedule and offered to walk with him to his next class, since they had it together.

Calculus was on the third floor of the main building. An older, very severe woman taught the class. She shoved a book in his hands when he walked into the class. Once again, he sat next to Mike.

A few minutes later, a boy walked into the class and caught his eye. He had smooth pale skin and perfectly styled chestnut hair with strawberry blond streaks. Thick lashes framed a pair of mesmerizing blue-green eyes.

The boy was tall, but had high cheekbones that made him look delicate. He wore a red and white cheerleading uniform that make his skin appear even paler.

Blaine closed his eyes to banish the thoughts from his head. It didn't do anything though. He spent the entire class period staring at the boy out of the corner of his eye.

When class ended, Blaine was in desperate need of a cigarette. Luckily, it was lunch time, and Blaine headed back out to the stadium where he met up with Puck.

* * *

His day had been absolutely miserable. First Finn nearly made him late, so he had to forfeit his morning Latte. Then someone had parked in his spot.

Plus there was the fact that he had a small hangover, which amplified the noise in the crowded hallways.

He couldn't even enjoy sleeping through his first period European History class because, not even ten minutes after his it started, Coach Sylvester called him to her office. She then spent the next half hour reprimanding him. Sue Sylvester did not yell at her Cheerios when she wanted to punish them, that was reserved for practice, instead she used words that bit to their very core.

"So, Porcelain," she said. "I would find myself hurt, if I were capable of feeling. Do you know why that is?"

"Coach…" Kurt started to say.

"I don't want to hear your excuses. One would think, after the way fought for this position, that you would do everything to keep it. Do you want your job to go to Stretch-Marks or the other one?"

"No, Coach." Quinn would never let him live it down if he lost his spot as co-captain, especially to her. Or Brittany. That would be a disaster in the making.

"Then why is it, you felt it would be okay to skip practice, and for a party?"

"Because I wasn't thinking, Coach," Kurt said. Really, he had no reason other than letting Santana talk him into it. Of course, he wasn't stupid enough to tell that to her.

"Obviously you weren't. You should use that pretty little head of yours sometimes."

On and on she went about how much of a disappointment he was, and how he would never make it as anything.

"You're on probation from here until I decide to forgive you," she said finally. "Be prepared for you punishment during practice today."

He hung his head in resignation.

"Now, get out so I can yell at Sandbags," she said.

Kurt fled her office.

His second period European History class passed in a blur. The only thing he could focus on was the dread coiling at the pit of his stomach. He knew Coach was going to make practice a torturous affair, and his muscles were already screaming in agony.

Trying to put thoughts of his impending doom out of his mind, Kurt slowly walked to his third period class.

Eyes. Breath taking honey colored eyes. That was the first thing he noticed on the unfamiliar boy in the classroom. They were bright and something about them just drew him in. Kurt had to force himself to look away and not get lost in them.

Ducking his head to avoid embarrassment, Kurt made his way to his seat.

It wasn't unusual for him to lose focus easily in Mrs. Bleithem's class. Even after six weeks, he could barely understand the subject. Between the nearly uncontrollable urge to turn to look at the boy and the eyes he could feel boring into the back of his head, he had more trouble than usual. Relief flooded through him when the bell rang, and Kurt wasted no time with leaving the classroom.

He met up with the Unholy Trinity at the bottom of the amphitheater, where they were sitting on the steps. Quinn was leaning against one of the polls braiding Brittany's hair while Santana picked at some dirt on the ground. The girls were unusually quiet.

"Coach?" he asked as he took a seat next to Santana.

"I don't want to talk about it," Quinn said.

"It was scary," Brittany said.

Kurt had to agree with her.

"Why did we ever think skipping practice was a good plan?" he asked.

"Because we apparently have a death wish," Santana said.

Death wish was an understatement. Kurt sighed and leaned his head on Santana's shoulder.

"Those there's a gorgeous new student," he told them changing the subject. Practice was inevitable, there was no sense in dwelling on it.

"Really?" Santana asked.

"Yep. He's in my Calculus class," Kurt said.

"Tell us about him!" Quinn demanded.

"I don't know much. He's got gorgeous eyes and dark, curly hair," Kurt said. Then he added, "His clothes are designer."

"That's it?" Quinn asked.

"For now. I'll find out more later," he promised the girls.

"You better," Santana said.

Getting more information on the new student was surprisingly easy. Mostly because the boy nearly knocked Kurt over as he entered his French class.

Soft callused hands reached out to steady him.

"Sorry," the boy said.

"It's fine," Kurt said. Then he held out his hand and said, "Kurt Hummel."

"Blaine Anderson," the boy said as he shook the outstretched hand.

Kurt nodded and walked to his desk as Blaine spoke with the French teacher. While he did so, Kurt stared at his ass. He was slightly ashamed of himself, but it was too good to look away from. Blaine was too hot to look away from.

When Blaine turned around and caught his eye with a slight smirk, a slight blush colored the Cheerio's cheeks.

"S-so where did you transfer from?" he stuttered out embarrassed.

"Dalton," Blaine shrugged.

"Isn't that the boarding school in Westerville?"

"Yes," he said.

Kurt got the feeling that Blaine was slightly reluctant to talk about the transfer.

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you the teachers here will be a disappointment after a school like that," Kurt told him.

"How so?"

"They're all pretty much idiots."

Blaine laughed. "Then I won't have to study as hard anymore."

"Probably not," Kurt smiled._ If only I were so lucky_, he thought.

Every minute he wasn't at Cheerio practice, Kurt spent studying. Mostly it was for Chemistry and Calculus that he had to study. He was already close to having a failing grade in both of those classes.

At least he didn't have that problem with French. Kurt's mother had begun teaching him the language when he was a young child, and now he took the classes for an easy A. Of course, the AP class he was in now was difficult because it involved reading and essays.

Halfway through the lecture a folded piece of paper was placed on Kurt's desk.

**The teacher's accent is awful**, was scrawled across it in a messy script.

Kurt giggled silently. He had to agree, it was truly awful.

_**Yes, it is. But sadly, you get used to it.**_

Kurt quickly passed the note back to Blaine.

**Well that sucks. I don't know how much longer I can listen to it.**

_**I don't know how to help you with that.**_

**How do you deal with it?**

_**I don't listen. Haven't since freshman year.**_

**Why not?**

_**I'm fluent. It's an easy A.**_

Back and forth they went the entire period, causing Kurt to nearly miss the homework assignment.

As they left the room, Blaine handed the paper back to Kurt then with a quick goodbye disappeared down the corridor.

Kurt unfolded it to find what he assumed to be Blaine's phone number.

A smile spread across his face and stayed there for the rest of the afternoon. Or until Cheerio practice started.

"Laps!" Coach yelled the moment he stepped onto the field.

And the ten laps he had to do weren't even the worst part. She gave him and the Unholy Trinity a verbal assault in front of the entire squad. Once that was done, practice proceeded as normal, with every mistake being either his or Santana's fault.

Then when that was done, there were more laps for the four of them to do. By the time he got home, Kurt was exhausted and drenched in sweat.

E/N: Reviews? And again, sorry it's short and late. Promise the next chapter will be on schedule.


	4. Chapter 4, Part 1

A/N: You've all been graciously patient, and I thank you so much for that. This is only Blaine's POV, so I do apologize. I've been hard at work with some of my original works, and looking for a job. Hopefully it won't take me too long to finish Kurt's POV, but my original story is my top priority at the moment. And to everyone that has reviewed, thank you so much. It really means the world to me to hear back from each of you.

-VAL

Chapter Four

Having a sit down dinner every night was getting on his nerves quickly, Blaine decided. Since Blaine boarded at Dalton and his dad was often out of town on business if he was home, actually eating dinner together was strictly reserved for holidays and special occasions. The Berry's did not have that same mentality.

"Rachel sometimes eats at Finn's, but yes during the week we sit down together," Melissa said when Blaine asked her about it that night.

"So how was your first day at McKinley?" Roy asked.

"It was fine," Blaine grunted.

"He didn't skip," Rachel said. "I checked with all of his teachers."

"You did what!?" Blaine yelled.

Melissa waived a hand to quiet him and said to Rachel, "That wasn't necessary, Rachel. I'm sure Ms. Pillsbury will contact us if he skips." She then turned back to him, "Not that you're going to skip, right?"

"Why do you even care?" Blaine snapped. "You never have before. I don't see why that has to change now. You didn't care enough to stay then. It's not any of you're fucking business what I do now." A collective gasp went around the table at the swear word, but he ignored them and continued, "So just but out of my life and go back to ignoring the fact that you have a son. For the record, I rarely skip class."

The other three occupants were stunned into silence, and when he was finished, Blaine shot them one last glare before storming up the stairs to his room.

His hands burned with the need to hit someone, something. He barely remembered doing it, but there was suddenly a fist sized hole in the wall just beside the door. Turning away from it, he dug his cigarettes out of his bag and flung the window open. He sat on the ledge with one leg hanging out the window and his back against the wall before lighting up. It took three cigarettes before the anger left him.

As he sat there watching the barely visible stars, his phone beeped.

_From: Wes_

_(8:49 PM)_

_So how was your first day in public school?_

_To: Wes_

_(8:50 PM)_

_Not as bad as I thought it would be. Still shitty._

_From: Wes_

_(8:50 PM)_

_That sucks. Any hot girls?_

_To: Wes_

_(8:51 PM)_

_Saw a few, didn't get a chance to talk to any. _

_From: Wes_

_(8:53 PM)_

_That blows. What's up?_

_To: Wes_

_(8:54 PM)_

_Nothing. Smoking. I feel like I'm in prison._

_(8:55 PM)_

_From: Wes_

_Try to stay out of trouble. You can't distract me from Economics in prison._

_(8:56 PM)_

_To: Wes_

_I'll do my best. Speaking of prison, have you heard from Jeff?_

_From: Wes_

_(8:59 PM)_

_No one has. Well, maybe Nick, but he hasn't said anything. I doubt you'll hear from him anyway. I've heard his parents are none too happy and blame everything on you._

_To: Wes_

_(9:01 PM)_

_It was mostly me. I hate that they're after him too._

_From: Wes_

_(9:03 PM)_

_You can't blame yourself. Those douchebags got what they deserved, and you and Jeff weren't the only ones involved. _

_To: Wes_

_(9:04 PM)_

_But we're the only ones they're going after._

_From: Wes_

_(9:06 PM)_

_With your record and his dad a senator, you're the easiest to go after. Don't sweat it. They just want money. Anyway, I gotta go. Keep me updated. _

_To: Wes_

_(9:07 PM)_

_Will do, see you. _

Blaine sighed. He was dying to know what was going on with Jeff, but his number had apparently been blocked.

Without the chaos of the dorms, he really didn't know what to do with himself. Despite the early hour, Blaine changed into a pair of sweats and grabbed his Kindle.

Rachel beating his door the next morning came as a shock. He groaned and pulled the blanket over his head.

_Getting up before seven every morning is going to kill me_, he thought. And without coffee in the house, it would be that much harder.

After shoving the warm covers off, Blaine stumbled out of his room to the bathroom for a shower. Once he was clean, and dressed, he joined the others downstairs.

"Good morning, Blaine," Melissa said after he sat down at the breakfast bar.

Once he had grunted in response, she continued, "About last night, I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions. You're right, the only things I know about you are things I remember from when you were a toddler. Or thing's you're father has told me regarding this situation."

Blaine listened to her silently as she apologized.

"So let's start over. I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt that you will stay out of trouble, and follow the rules without any trouble. And maybe we can get to know one another along the way. What do you say?"

"Yeah, sure," Blaine said. Not that he really cared if they got to know one another. That need had vanished a long time ago.

"That's great!" she said, apparently not noticing his uncaring home.

A few moments later, Rachel joined them. It took a few seconds for him to realize what she was wearing, and when he did he nearly choked on the orange juice he was drinking. She had on a white sweater with a large black cat face crocheted into it, a navy a-line skirt, knee high stockings, and black Mary-Jane's. To top it off, there was a sparkley black headband in her pin straight hair. It was the most ridiculous thing he had seen someone wear.

"Blaine, you can either ride with Rachel or take the bus it's up to you."

The bus? Never in his life before had he taken public transportation anywhere and he wasn't about to start now. Being seen in whatever crappy car with Rachel sounded a lot more appealing.

"I need coffee," he told her ten minutes later when they left the house in her car.

"Okay?" she said.

"It means, you're stopping somewhere so I can get some."

"You could ask me to stop, you know," she said.

"I could," he said.

She gave him a dirty look, but began driving towards The Lima Bean.

When they got there, she declined his offer to buy her something. He shrugged, then climbed back into the car.

As he sipped of the burning liquid, he fished his pack of cigarettes and lighter out of his bag.

"What are you doing?" Rachel screeched when she saw him pull them out.

"Smoking." He rolled his eyes and flicked the lighter. Cigarettes and coffee, that was his breakfast. The day couldn't start without them either.

"Mom told you it's not aloud. And you can't smoke in my car!"

"Well, I am," he said and blew the smoke towards he face.

She choked and attempted to waive the smoke away. "It's bad for my voice, Blaine. Put it out," Rachel huffed.

Blaine didn't say anything.

"Ugh! Just get out of my car!" she said after pulling into the student parking lot. Without waiting for a reply, she slammed the door and stormed off towards the building.

Laughing at her, Blaine dropped the butt one the ground before wondering off to find his firsts period class. Stopping for coffee had them arriving to school just a few minutes before the bell rang.

Puck found him on the stair case.

"Why were you riding with Rachel Berry, dude?" he asked.

"Because my father took my car and it was that or riding a bus. I almost wish I'd have taken the bus," Blaine said.

"But why Berry?"

"Because she's my stepsister," he said. The word was sour in his mouth. He didn't want to think he actually had any relation to the irritating girl or the woman that gave birth to him.

"Dude, that sucks," Puck said.

"You don't even know the half of it," Blaine muttered.

"Well, see you," Puck said and wondered down the hallway.

His History class had to be a joke, Blaine decided. The teacher was a bumbling idiot that couldn't tell the Revolutionary War from the French and Indian war, let alone who fought in either.

"Having a bad morning?" Kurt's angelic voice asked him not long after he entered his Calculus class.

"The worst," Blaine told him.

"I'm not a morning person either," Kurt told him.

Blaine laughed. It was nice not to have someone pry. "I bet you know some hot girls that can make my morning better," he said.

"I'll see what I can do," Kurt said before taking his seat.

E/N: and for those of you that care, you can follow my progress on my novel with the URL valevesque or my fandom blog, which is claraoswinstark (GOT and DW both come back this week and they're dating and it just makes me sooooo happy.) And you're patience is awesome. :)


	5. Chapter 4, Part 2

A/N: Here is Kurt's part of Chapter four. Again sorry it had to be split like this. I don't like having to do this, but Kurt was being difficult and I didn't want you all to have to wait an eternity and a half for it. Thank you to everyone for all the amazing reviews, it warms my heart. And for everyone that keeps asking, I'm trying to work on the next chapter of MMS, I'm just really stuck with it. Anyway, I'll stop talking now. Enjoy.

-VAL

_Chapter Four, Part Two_

Of course, he was straight. It would be his luck. Nothing ever went Kurt's way.

"Join me at lunch," Kurt asked the dark haired boy once class was over.

"I…what?"

"You wanted to meet some hot girls, right? I'm co-captain of the Cheerio's. I can introduce you to the hottest girls in the school," Kurt explained. It was true. Santana, Britt, and Q were the hottest girls in the school, and his best friends. Besides, someone needed to touch Blaine's body, even if Kurt couldn't.

"Lead the way," Blaine said and gestured towards the door.

Kurt led him to the usual spot he and the Unholy Trinity hung out during the lunch break.

"Girls," he said as they approached the girls. "Meet Blaine Anderson."

"Fuck you are hot," Santana said causing Kurt and the other two girls to giggle.

"Blaine, this is Santana, Brittany and Quinn," he said pointing to each girl respectively.

"Ladies," Blaine said then focused his attention to Kurt's co-captain, "Santana." Instead of shaking her outstretched hand, Blaine brought it up and placed a chaste kiss against it.

The two blondes giggled at the gesture.

Santana laughed and asked, "Where did you find this clown?"

"You're very charming, Blaine," Quinn said.

"Calculus," Kurt answered. Then he turned back to Blaine and said, "And ignore her. She's a bitch."

"I love you too Porcelain," Santana shot back.

"Mmhm, sure," Kurt said before sat down on the concrete next to Quinn.

"So prep school, what brings you to this backwards ass school?" Santana asked.

Kurt hadn't asked, but he was curious as well. If Blaine's parents could afford to send him to one of the top boarding schools in the country, why did he transfer to McKinley.

"My mother and her husband live here," Blaine grunted darkly.

Santana, for once, didn't push to find out more.

"How are you liking it so far?" Quinn asked changing the subject.

"Honestly, with few exceptions, this whole town sucks," Blaine explained and winked at the group.

"Well, how about I help you make it a little better," Santana said.

Kurt recognized the tone, she used it quite often when she wanted Puck or some other guy to sleep with her. And the dark haired boy played right into her hands.

"What do you have in mind," he said.

Santana stood up, grabbed his hand, and said, "I'm going to rock your world in a way those rich bitches in Westerville cant."

"Lead the way," Blaine said.

Once she had led them out of hearing range, Kurt turned to Quinn and said, "I can't believe she just did that!"

"I can," the blonde said. "He's gorgeous, and rich. I'm sure you didn't miss the designer clothes he's wearing."

"You and I are probably the only people in this backwards school that caught that. I've been lusting over that bag for weeks!"

Neither Santana nor Blaine made it back before lunch ended. Actually, Blaine was fifteen minutes late for French and his hair had been washed free of the ungodly amount of gel.

"I'm glad you found a friend," Kurt said when the other boy took a seat next to him.

"I'm not sure if I should say thank you, but I am anyway."

"You're welcome?" Kurt said.

Blaine laughed. It was loud and rich, and sent the best kind of shiver down Kurt's spine.

Regardless of how charming or ridiculously hot the other boy was, Kurt stood no chance with him and knew it. Not to mention Blaine was apparently attracted to Santana.

_He's straight, he's straight, he's straight_, Kurt chanted in his head, trying to force his body to remember that fact.

Kurt spent the rest of class passing notes with the other boy and trying not to laugh at the mocking statements made towards the teacher.

"Smoking is disgusting, Blaine," Kurt told him after class.

"It relieves stress," Blaine said with a shrug, before he left out of the back staircase to sneak a cigarette before his next class.

Shaking his head, the Cheerio made his way to the science building for Chemistry. A class that he was close to failing. He couldn't understand the math, and none of the labs made any sense to him. The entire class period was spent doodling new outfits on the paper that should have been his notes.

"Do you think Coach will torture us today?" Quinn asked him the moment he walked into Home Ec., his last class of the day.

"God I hope not," Santana said. "I can barely feel my legs."

"You sure that's from practice and not from sleeping with Blaine?" Kurt said, causing both Quinn and Brittany to laugh.

"Jealous, Hummel?" she retorted.

"As if. Why would I want anything you've touched?"

"That hasn't stopped you from wanting Sam," Brittany pointed out.

"Oh just shut it!" Kurt said.

"How was he?" Quinn asked directing the conversation away from her best friend.

"The hobbit ain't small, and damn does he know what to do with it," she said.

The other two girls giggled while Kurt hid his face in his hands. Knowing the two of them had sex and hearing about it were two totally different things. He definitely wasn't interested in the latter.

"Sounds like your man is gonna have to step up his game," Quinn said.

"Puck? We're on a break right now," Santana said.

"You were together at the party like two days ago," Kurt said.

"Shit happens," she said.

"You're such a whore sometimes," Kurt said.

"And you're just a jealous bitch," she said.

"Please don't fight," Brittany pleaded with the them.

"Would both of you shut up!" Quinn yelled.

Her outburst drew the attention of their teacher, Mrs. Hagburg. "Is there a problem over here?" the old woman asked them.

"No," the group chorused.

"Then get to work on your muffins, and no more yelling," she said before walking away to check on another group.

"I hate that old bat," Kurt said.

"Who doesn't," Quinn said.

The tension between Kurt and Santana kept them snapping at one another through the rest of class and during practice.

"Sandbags, Porcelain, get over here!" Coach Sylvester yelled at them halfway through practice. "The rest of you disappointments start running laps!"

Kurt and Santana broke away from the group as they started for the track.

"Yes, Coach?" Kurt asked.

"I don't care what it is, but it's messing with my routine. You can run laps for the next two days until you work it out, got it?"

"Got it," they said.

"Good. Start running, Sandbags. I need a word with you Porcelain."

With a short glare at Kurt, Santana joined the rest of the squad.

"It has come to my attention that you are failing two classes," Sue told him. "What is the minimum grade required for my squad?"

"At least a 75 in all classes," Kurt said.

"Then why are you failing?"

"I'll work on getting the grades up, Coach."

"You better. You've got one week. If I don't see improvement then I'll give your captaincy to Q, got it."

"Yes, Coach."

"Good," she said. "Start on those laps. You're done when I say so."

With a nod Kurt headed out of the gym to join the others. His mind wasn't on the running though. How was he supposed to pass the classes when he couldn't understand anything the teachers said?

* * *

E/N: Reviews, please?


	6. Chapter 5

A/N: Thanks to everyone that has reviewed so far. You guys always make my day. God this is a long chapter. Give a lot more info about why Blaine was brought in for questioning, though you'll have to wait a while still for the whole story. Anyway, again sorry for taking forever. Enjoy.

-VAL

_Chapter Five_

Hooking up with Kurt's hot friend was a bad idea, Blaine realized that the moment he walked off with her, but he was so bored. It had barely been three days, but everything in Lima was immensely mundane. Part of it, he knew, was that all of his friends were two hours away. And part of it was how routine the Berry's were. Even being in the car with Rachel an hour after classes let out listening to her complain about him smoking was getting old, and fast. Plus, he didn't have access to a gym, and needed some way to relieve the stress.  
The last two days he spent the hour she had glee rehearsals wondering around the parking lot smoking. He was bound to get caught if that happened, but the area under the bleachers was inaccessible after school due to football practice. At least it was the weekend now, and he could attempt to convince his father to give him his car back.  
As it turned out, the man was waiting at the Berry's house when he and Rachel returned from school Friday afternoon. He was sitting at the counter with his lawyer, Andrew, and Melissa talking quietly. Their conversation stopped abruptly once they noticed Blaine and Rachel walk through the door.  
"Blaine," Richard said, "we need to talk."  
"Don't we always," Blaine said sardonically before turning to walk back out the door.  
"Rachel, Sweetie, why don't you head upstairs," he heard Melissa say before the door slammed shut behind him.  
_Fuck_, he thought as he lit a cigarette. He did not want to deal with this shit today. Leaning against the wall, the teenager slid down until he was seated on the concrete porch with his legs stretched out in front of him.  
A few moments later, his father walked out the door.  
"I wish you wouldn't smoke, son."  
"There are a lot of things you wish I wouldn't do."  
"Drop the attitude, Blaine. I'm trying to help you."  
"I don't want your help," the boy spat.  
With a frustrated sigh, his father snatched the cigarette out of his hands and pulled him up by the collar.  
"Wha-?" Blaine started to say.  
"Too bad. Get in the car," Richard said shoving the boy towards the silver BMW.  
After stumbling slightly, he regained his balance and shot his father a venomous glare. "Make me," he growled.  
Without responding, the man grabbed Blaine's arm and roughly pulled him to the car.  
"Let go of me, asshole!" Blaine yelled trying to pull out of his father's grip.  
Ignoring him, Richard opened the car door and shoved his son into the car. Once the door was closed, he hurried to the driver's side and climbed in.  
Blaine was halfway out of the car, but the older man grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling him back.  
"I'm not in the mood to deal with your shit today, Blaine. Buckle the damn seatbelt," he demanded.  
With a huff, Blaine slammed the door. Slouching down in his seat, he propped his boot clad feet on the dashboard and raised an eyebrow at his father.  
"Seatbelt," he reminded the teenager before pulling out of the driveway.  
Lima flew by as Blaine stared sullenly out the window. The car was silent, and he could feel the older man's eyes halfway watching him as the car sped down the road. Several long minutes passed, and the teenager had to fight the urge to sit up straight. Plus his current position was immensely uncomfortable.  
Finally he gave up and pulled out his pack of cigarettes, and pressed the button to roll down the window. It didn't move. He pressed it several more times, becoming more agitated by the second. It took a second for him to realized his father had not only snatched another cigarette from him, but this time taken the entire pack.  
"Fucking seriously?" he shouted.  
"Language, Blaine," Richard chastised.  
"Whatever," he said.  
"You still owe me that explanation," the man said after a few moments.  
"Why do you even care?"  
"Because, believe it or not, I care what happens to you," he said. "I don't want you to ruin your future this way. Do you really think I want to see you go to prison?"  
"The only thing you care about it the backlash me being arrested will have on your company," Blaine said.  
"That's not entirely true, but what do you want me to say? Would you like me to deny being concerned about it? This company is your future, if you don't throw it away first."  
"Have you ever thought maybe I want to throw it away?"  
"Bullshit, Blaine."  
He didn't have a comeback for that. Blaine's life revolved around the power that came from money. Neither being in jail nor messing up his schooling would benefit his lifestyle.  
The ride was silent for a while, though not nearly as unbearable as it had been. Several questions raced through Blaine's mind. Most importantly, where was his father taking him? The only thing he could figure out was they were headed towards Columbus.  
Relief flooded through him as they turned into a familiar neighborhood.  
"Here's the deal," his father said. "Andrew is going to run with whatever story you and your idiot side kick come up with. I expect it to at lest be partially true. And at some point, you will tell me the entire story. I don't want any more surprises, understand?"  
"Yes."  
"Good. I'm having a word with Governer Sterling."  
Without wasting a second, Blaine was out of the barely parked car and rushing through the front door of the Governor's house. He pushed passed the maid and startled Mrs. Sterling as he flew up the stairs.  
"Fucking hell, man!" Jeff yelled when Blaine flung his bedroom door open.  
The blonde boy had dropped his phone and was staring at Blaine.  
"What have you told them?" Blaine demanded after closing the door behind him.  
Jeff scrambled to pick his phone back up, and said, "I'll call you back in a bit. Love you!" before hanging up.  
Stalking forward, Blaine grabbed the blond and slammed him into the wall opposite the door. "What did you fucking tell them," the curly haired boy demanded.  
"Nothing! Jesus Fucking Christ, B, calm your shit!" Jeff said pushing at the other boy until he let go.  
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Jeff asked once they were seated across from one another.  
Blaine could tell he had frightened his friend. The only thought he had been able to process had been if Jeff told, he was fucked. It overrode everything else.  
"Fuck if I know. Sorry. I panicked," he apologized.  
"Well, you shouldn't have," Jeff said. "You're like a brother, B. I won't speak a word."  
"Thank you," Blaine breathed.  
"Why are you here anyway?" Jeff asked. "I'm not supposed to have contact with anyone. Well, I can talk to Nick, but that's it."  
"My father wanted to talk to yours."  
"He wants to know how my dad is trying to stop the investigation."  
"Probably. Bastard thinks they'll actually get enough evidence to charge us."  
"Eli would have to wake up for that to happen," Jeff said.  
"Wake up?" Blaine asked.  
The blond looked at him in shock. "They haven't told you," he said.  
"Told me what?"  
"Eli is in a coma. They don't know if he'll wake up. You're fucked either way."  
"Fuck!" Blaine yelled. That explained why his father was so concerned about what happened. Assault they could cover up, but if the fucker died…  
"Yes, fuck."  
"What did you tell them?"  
"The police or my dad?" Jeff asked.  
"The police."  
"That we were practicing for the Alumni Gala in two weeks with the Warblers," Jeff said. "What else could I say. Yes, Officer, I was with my friends. We broke into a building and were beating the shit out of one another just for kicks. That'll go over nicely."  
"Don't be an ass, Jeff."  
"You're one to talk, B. The back of my head fucking hurts thanks to you."  
"You'll live. Anyway, we need a story, because you're dad and my father are going to know practice is a lie."  
"Well, what do we tell them?"  
For the next hour the two discussed what parts of that night to tell their fathers and lawyers and what parts to leave out.  
When Mrs. Sterling came to fetch them, they had long since figured it out, and Blaine was seated on the balcony with the doors open smoking a cigarette. Jeff was laying half in and half out of the room doing the same.  
"Jeffery!" she screeched upon seeing what her son was doing.  
"Mom!" the blond said scrambling up and flicking the cigarette over the railing.  
"What are you doing?" she demanded.  
"Nothing?" Jeff said. All three knew the boy had been caught.  
Blaine chuckled in amusement at his friend.  
"It most certainly wasn't 'nothing'," she said. "Your father wants you downstairs. You too, Blaine."  
Groaning, Blaine took one last drag of his cigarette before using the plant next to him to put it out.  
"We'll talk about this later, Jefferey," Mrs. Sterling said shotting Blaine a deadly look.  
Jeff just nodded his head before heading downstairs.  
"I want you to keep away from my children. You're a terrible influence, Blaine Anderson," she hissed as Blaine passed her.  
It took everything for him not to laugh. The woman had hated him since she caught him in her eldest daughters bed last summer, then making out with a different girl at the country club the next day. Come to think of it, Elizabeth, Jeff's sister, hadn't spoken to him since that day. It took nearly a month for Jeff to forgive him.  
Both of their fathers, and Andrew were waiting when Blaine walked into Governer Sterling's library.  
"Alright boys," Governer Sterling said, "let's hear the convoluted story the two of you have no doubt come up with."  
With a glance at Blaine, Jeff started speaking. "Some of us have been sneaking off campus for the past couple of years and doing a fight club like thing. It's only supposed to be our really close friends, and some others from Dalton there."  
"Jeff!" Blaine hissed glaring at his friend who was already telling to much of the truth. He was supposed to say it was the first time they had done it.  
Seeming to ignore him, the blond kept speaking. "Lately some other guys have been showing up though."  
"Like Mitchel and Eli Carter," Richard said.  
"That night was the first time we saw them. The older one, Mitchel was really cocky and being an asshole in general."  
"Then what happened?" Andrew, who was taking notes, asked.  
"He challenged me to a fight," Blaine said.  
"Did you accept?" the Governer asked.  
"Yes. And he lost," Blaine said,  
"Badly," Jeff added earning another glare from Blaine.  
"Then what happened?" Andrew asked.  
"Some other people fought, then we left," Blaine said.  
"In a group?" the lawyer asked again.  
"No. Blaine and I went to get some food before we went back to Dalton," Jeff finished.  
"Did you see either of them again?"  
"No," Blaine said. From the look his father gave him, Blaine knew the man didn't believe him. Luckily, Richard didn't call him out on it.  
"So they did this to themselves and are trying to frame the two of you?" the Governer asked.  
"Probably," Blaine said.  
"Why drag Jeff and the younger one into it?" Richard asked.  
"Blaine and I both rejected him. That's why Mitchel challenged Blaine in the first place. He was kind of an ass about it," Jeff said.  
"Of course he was," Richard muttered.  
"Well, now that we've got your side of things, we'll have a better chance at keeping the police from charging you boys with anything," Jeff's dad said.  
A few minutes later, Blaine was being ushered back into the car by his dad.  
"How much of that was true?" Richard asked.  
"All of it, except the part about not seeing the two of them again."  
"Because you did everything that boy says you did."  
"Yes. And because I made him watch what I did to Eli," Blaine said after a minute.  
It was lucky the car was stopped at a stop sign, because as soon as the words left his mouth, his father backhanded him across the face. The side of his head hit the window jarring him.  
"What the fuck?" he yelled in pain. "That hurt!"  
"You're a stupid fucking idiot, Blaine. What were you thinking?"  
"I don't know!"  
"You better figure it out, and fast," Richard said.  
Glaring at his father and rubbing his head, Blaine successfully rolled down the window and lit a cigarette. For once, his father didn't say anything about it as he drove back to their estate.  
Upon arriving, Richard turned to Blaine and said. "Pack whatever shit you need because you won't be back in this house until the holidays. You've got two hours."  
The curly haired boy started up the stairs, wanting nothing more than to take a nap. His head was still throbbing from hitting the window.  
"And Blaine," the older man said stopping him, "You're still expected to attend the dinner next Saturday with a… suitable date. Behave through then and I might think about giving you your car back."  
Rolling his eyes he continued up the stairs.

* * *

"I heard a rumor about you," Quinn said to Kurt while they had their lunch break at The Lima Bean during Cheerio practice Saturday.  
"Which was?"  
"That you might lose your spot as co-captain," she said smugly.  
"It's just a rumor, Q."  
"Then what did Coach keep you behind for yesterday?"  
He took a long drink of his coffee trying to decide what to tell her. Best friends or not, Quinn would kill him to get her spot as co-captain on the Cheerios back.  
"My grades in Calculus and Chemistry are starting to slip," he eventually said. "Coach was warning me that if I start to fail she'll put me on some kind of probation."  
"Like?"  
"More laps probably. That's her favorite punishment lately."  
"I don't see why you're taking such difficult classes anyway," the blond said.  
"You're taking Chemistry too, Q. It's a requirement," he pointed out.  
"But you're taking all AP classes, and Calculus. That's like, insane."  
"It'll help with college," he shrugged. "Anyway, lunch break is almost over." He stood up from the table to throw his trash away.  
Quinn followed suit, and commented, "We should just skip. I'm so tired of running laps."  
"She'll add more laps if we skip, and you know it. Hopefully today is the last day and we can get back to actually doing routines."  
The next four hours was nothing but running laps around the track and running through basic tumbling exercises. Then Kurt spent nearly all of Sunday catching up on homework and trying to understand the work from Chemistry and Calculus.  
By the time Monday rolled around, Kurt was exhausted, both mentally and physically. If he had to spend the three hour practice after school running laps again, he was sure to collapse.  
Lost in thought, Kurt wasn't paying attention to where he was walking, and ran directly into someone. The overwhelming scent of cigarette smoke, leather, and Yves Saint Laurent L'Homme Libre cologne filled his nostrils. Calloused hands on his arms were the only thing that kept him from hitting the ground.  
"I believe it was your fault this time," Blaine said with a laugh.  
"Sorry. I had a long weekend," Kurt said.  
"You and me both," Blaine said cryptically.  
The Cheerio looked at him curiously but didn't comment. "I need to get to class," he said after a few minutes of walking quietly next to the curly haired boy.  
"And I need a cigarette," Blaine said turning towards the football field. "See you in Calculus." With a final wave, the curly haired boy is gone.  
Kurt shook his head, and continued walking towards the building. Cheerio or not, there were still some people at the school that wouldn't be nearly as amused having the gay kid walk into them. Mainly a couple of very prejudiced football players and one field hockey player. Thankfully his uniform and the threat of harming Coach Sue's prized possession kept them from doing anything more than hissing demeaning comments towards him every now and then.  
He barely paid attention to his first two classes, still trying to figure out who he could get to help keep him from failing. He could have asked Mike to help, but the football player hadn't quite forgiven him for making his girlfriend, Tina, cry a couple of weeks ago. Well, Santana made her cry, he just let her and laughed when the girl did cry.  
_Note to self_, he thought, _stop being mean to the glee losers_. It apparently came back to bite him. Not that he knew if Mike would turn him down for tutoring or not, he just didn't want to find out.  
Halfway through Calculus, it dawned on him that he could ask Blaine. Coming from a school like Dalton, his grades had to be better than half their class. At least Kurt hoped they were.  
"Hey, Blaine, can I ask you something?" Kurt asked once the bell rang.  
"Yeah?" Blaine looked apprehensive about what the Cheerio might want.  
"Dalton's curriculum is better than ours, right?"  
"A lot better," he commented.  
"What are your grades like?"  
"Why do you want to know?" Blaine asked his voice taking on a slight defensive tone.  
"Because I need a tutor in this class and Chemistry or Coach give Q my position as co-captain," Kurt explained.  
"And you're asking me because?"  
"Because I think Mike will tell me know and I don't actually like anyone else in this class."  
"Should I feel special then?"  
"Don't be an ass. If you don't want to do it, then say so. Then I can figure something else out."  
"I didn't say I wouldn't," Blaine said.  
"So is that a yes?"  
"You have to do something for me first."  
Kurt turned to look at him, almost afraid to ask.  
"Does your friend Quinn have a boyfriend?"  
"No, why?" Confusion and curiosity spread through him. After Thursday, he thought the senior was interested in Santana.  
"Because there's a dinner I'm required to attend next Saturday and I apparently need a suitable date for it. Your friend seems like a good candidate."  
"You want me to convince her to go with you?"  
"You need a tutor, I need a date. Get her to agree and I'll help you with both classes."  
"Santana won't be happy about it. Why can't you take her?"  
"I said suitable. Santana's hot, but she wouldn't exactly fit in."  
"Because she isn't rich," Kurt said.  
"I didn't say that."  
"You're wearing a nine hundred dollar Michael Kors jacket, Blaine. You don't have to say it for it to be true. What makes you think Quinn is a suitable date? Her family doesn't exactly have have money either."  
"She can pull the look off. And she doesn't sound poor."  
Disbelief crossed Kurt's face at the statement. "That was incredibly rude. She's not poor. Her dad is a pediatrician. And you don't know anything about Santana."  
Kurt angrily turned to walk away from him, thinking he might be better off taking the risk to ask Mike to help.  
The curly haired boy reached out and grabbed him by the arm. "Look sorry. I didn't mean it that way."  
"I'll talk to Q. But please try to refrain from saying anything else stupid."  
"I'll do my best. All of this," Blaine gestured to the students around them, "is new to me."  
"You'll get used to it. When do you want to meet up to help me?"  
"After school? Whenever is good for you. It's not like I've got anything better to do."  
"I've got Cheerio practice. It's over at six. Can we meet at seven?"  
"Sounds like a plan," Blaine said then turned to walk away.  
"Not going to sit with us today?"  
"I need a cigarette. I'll text you the address later."  
The Cheerio shook his head as he watched Blaine walk out the door. Getting Quinn to go on a date with him would be a challenge. Especially considering she hasn't dated since Puck knocked her up at the end of freshman year. For a moment Kurt wondered if that would make her 'unsuitable' for Blaine's dinner.

* * *

E/N: Reviews? Also, let me know if you'd rather me split Kurt's & Blaine's parts into separate chapters for faster updates. Love you all.


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